


Take My Hand (Help Me On My Way)

by wildespirit



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: I'm Sorry, M/M, this is way too long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildespirit/pseuds/wildespirit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a light in you<br/>and it makes me never fear<br/>the darkness in me. –Tyler Knott</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take My Hand (Help Me On My Way)

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics come from “Lover’s Eyes” by Mumford and Sons. This quickly became me, thinly veiled as Ray, taking 4000 words to talk about why I am in love with Walt. Sorry not sorry. A billion thanks as always to Jay, who isn’t to blame for this, but dealt with it nonetheless.
> 
> Disclaimer: Based on the HBO show, not the real marines, obviously. Warning for the same homophobic/ableist/racist/sexist language that is in the show.

Ray Person would die for any one of his Marine brothers.

 

Except for Walt, he wouldn't die for Walt. He’d grab him and run; keep running. He’d take him as far away from the danger as they could get.

 

It wasn’t a selfish need to keep Walt with him or something like that. It was totally selfless; the world needed more people like Walt. Ray _would_ say that it needed to be full of Walt Hassers, because then everyone would know how it feels to have someone like Walt smile at them, just for them. But honestly, ok so maybe he was being a little bit selfish, it made Ray feel just as special as all his teachers had told him he was to know that he's the one who gets to know Walt, to touch Walt, to love _Walt_. 

 

He didn’t know what he did to deserve this, but he wasn’t going to question it.

 

He was trying not to fuck it up.

 

_(tame the ghosts in my head)_

Ray turned around as he heard Brad approaching the Humvee. Garza had already fucked off elsewhere, probably to lament with Poke about the struggles of the Mexican or some shit, so Ray had been left all on his own trying fix this fucking piece of shit vehicle.

 

He did a double take when he saw the fucking All-American Quarterback talking to Brad as they walked over. Looked like the other gunner had arrived. Sweet fucking Jesus. It wasn’t like Ray was gay (except ok so maybe he actually was gay, but shut up, that didn’t make him less of a Marine or diminish his warrior spirit) but this guy was right up there with the Iceman in terms of Aryan poster boy beauty. Fuck.

 

“Ray,” said Brad, “this is Walt Hasser, he’ll be the one swapping with Garza. Walt, this is Ray Person, an illiterate fucked up redneck, don’t listen to a thing he says.” Brad might not have been smiling, but Ray knew the hatred was just a front.

 

“Don’t listen to a thing _he_ says, he fucking loves me,” Ray smiled at Walt, who just raised an eyebrow in return. “Bradley, can you please go find Gabriel and tell him to get his ass back here, because we have not fucking finished.”

 

“Only because I need to ask Poke something anyway,” Brad said. “Walt, if you need anything, just come find me. Do not, under any circumstance, ask Ray.”

 

“Yes, Sergeant. Thank you.”

 

Ray laughed as Brad pointedly looked at him. “See Person, some Corporals know how to address their betters, you could learn a lot from young Walt here.”

 

At that, Walt huffed indignantly. “If you actually think I’m younger than he is then I’ll be really offended, Sergeant.”

 

Brad laughed and walked off.

 

“You can pretend to Brad all you want,” said Ray, “but anyone who looks as corn fed as you is definitely just as much of a hick as I am. Where’re you from?”

 

Walt blushed. _Huh._ Ray made a mental note to work out as many ways as possible to make Walt blush as often as he could.

 

“Uh, ok you can’t tell Sergeant Colbert because he spent the entire walk over here talking about how much he hates country music and hicks like you, his words not mine, and it was too late for me to tell him and I guess he didn’t ask the LT, and fuck he is not going to be happy when he finds out, but I mean I had to go along with the jokes it was too late, and oh fuck, Taylorstown, Virginia.”

 

The words had come out in a steady stream that even Ray Person himself was mildly impressed with, but judging by the puff of breath Walt let out at the end, he wasn’t accustomed to sentences longer than five words.

 

Ray stared at him and then let out a bark of laughter.

 

“Virginia, huh. I trust you know every single word to _Ring of Fire?_ ”

 

“Um,” Walt looked puzzled. “Well, obviously.”

 

Ray grinned. “Wonderful. Welcome to Bravo Two-One Alpha, Walt Hasser, it’s a pleasure to have you. How much do you know about repairing Humvees?”

 

_(that run wild and wish me dead)_

Ray woke up to a muffled “Shit!” He stayed with his eyes closed for a few more seconds, before remembering exactly whom he had slept with last night.

 

He cracked an eye open, and saw Walt standing still with his jeans on one leg, looking at Ray and biting his lip.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. I was just—”

“We’re going to need to work on your swiftness and silentness, aren’t we?” Ray laughed. “Your ass is plenty deadly though.”

 

Walt snorted, the tension seeping out of him. “Your jokes are still just as bad, who’d have thought?”

 

“Shut up, Hasser, get your ass back in bed, we have hours before we have to be at base.”

 

“Yeah, but I should,” Walt paused, gesturing vaguely at himself and the door and who the fuck knew what.

 

Ray sighed, deciding the time was right to employ the “I will take no bullshit from you” voice that his momma had used on him so many times.

 

“Walt, it is 4 am. I’m not telling and neither are you. There is nothing to worry about. Get back into bed right now.”

 

Walt looked down at his feet. “It’s not… I don’t care about DADT. I mean I do, obviously, but of course you wouldn’t tell. It’s just, I didn’t want it to be awkward in the morning, and now it’s really awkward.”

 

Ray sighed again. It was time to put him out of his uncomfortable misery. He sat up.

 

“Walt, I really like you. You look like you’re made of sunshine, and you’re so sweet even my homophobic redneck family wouldn’t mind if I brought you home. You’re a Marine, so we’ll be together, and when we’re not, I know you won’t mind if I don’t always remember to write or call, and I won’t mind either. Please come back to bed, so that when it is actually time to wake up I can make you pancakes and coffee and we can have sex again.”

 

Ray had thought previously, after seeing Walt’s smile for the first time, that he would get used to it, that it would eventually cease to make his legs wobble and his heart thud. He had been naïve and young back then.

 

Walt stepped back out of his jeans, the stupid grin still plastered to his face, and burrowed back under the covers. He planted a sloppy kiss on Ray’s face. Still a bit drunk then.

 

“What exactly did I do right to get someone who could say everything I needed to say better than I ever could?”

 

Ray just shook his head.

 

 

_(should you shake my ash to the wind)_

“Walt’s got a great way, LT. Shoot the driver, stop the car.”

 

Being Recon Marines who were keeping their gay ass romance a secret had perfected their silent communication methods. Brad and the LT were so fucking obvious, it was repulsive to Ray’s warrior spirit.

 

The look that Ray was receiving from Walt at that moment clearly said _You’re an insensitive asshole and you’re never getting laid again._

Ray was expecting this reaction, but Walt had spoken to Reporter, fucking _Rolling Stone,_ more than he’d spoken to Ray since he shot the driver, and even then it was only five words, so Ray would have been ecstatic to get anything out of him at this point.

 

Note: Making a joke out of Walt shooting civilians will not work in a) getting him to talk to you about his feelings or b) getting laid.

 

After Brad and Nate walked off, Walt studiously ignored Ray. Which was really fucking rude, because he was usually a really great boyfriend, and he was just trying to help.

 

So far, covering his adorable face in MRE milkshake had got a glare, humping Walt’s head had got gritted teeth, and saying Walt’s name had got a snapped “Leave me the fuck alone.”

 

It was time for radical action, manoeuvre warfare, Godfather eat your fucking heart out. Ray left Walt alone until he had finished his report, and while he was digging his grave, Walt finally came back to the Humvee after talking to the LT. He sighed, and then turned and walked towards one of the berms.

 

Fuck no; Walt was not about to go for a combat jack without Ray, that shit was not fucking on.

 

Ray snuck, swift, silent, motherfucking deadly, over the berm after Walt, only to realise that Walt was actually only taking a shit. But Ray had him on his own now; he wasn’t going to let it go to waste. He gave up his pretence of sneaking and slid down the berm. Walt turned.

 

“Ray—”

 

“No, no, no Walt,” he interrupted. “No more of this silent treatment. I’m trying to be supportive, and you’re just going to have to let me, ok?”

 

Walt sighed, and finally met Ray’s eyes. His eyes were red rimmed, but that could easily have been from the sand and wind. Ray was pretty sure however, that the look of desperate sadness on Walt’s face, the set of his shoulders—hopeless, but somehow resolute—were not an effect of the shamal, of the shitty quality of MREs, or even of being sick of Ray. He looked like he was being crushed from every angle, like he had given up on pushing back against all the bullshit.

 

Ray tried to stop himself from looking away, but seeing Walt’s face like that made something low in his belly ache in an unpleasant way, different from the hunger he was quickly getting used to.

 

He continued forward until he could touch Walt, grabbed his hand and guided him to sit down. If anyone was watching, Ray was sure they wouldn’t think anything of it. Everyone in the platoon wanted Walt functioning again.

 

Walt wasn’t meant to look haunted. He was born to bring joy to everyone, through a bright smile that made his earnest blue eyes shine. He shouldn’t _ever_ have been allowed to be a Marine in Ray’s opinion, too fucking dangerous, and when Ray was finally going to be taken home to Virginia (he was working on it) he would be having a stern talk with Momma Hasser about the whole thing.

 

Although, if Walt wasn’t a Marine he and Ray wouldn't have met, and that ass looks hot in uniform. Whatever.

 

It’s not like Ray thought Walt couldn’t protect himself or some shit like that. _He could,_ he was a mighty good Marine, and Ray understood, of course he did, the need to see combat, the need to have adventure and action in your life. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

 

“Walt,” he began, but got cut off.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

Ray pinched the bridge of his nose, and resisted saying _because that’s worked so well so far._ He nudged Walt’s shoulder with his own instead. “Why not?” he asked.

 

Walt took a deep breath and finally turned his head to look at Ray. “Because… because I don’t know what happened. And if I don’t know what happened, then the only way to explain it to anyone else is to make lame excuses. I won’t make excuses.” He paused, but Ray knew better to interrupt. Walt took his time when he spoke, and he wasn’t always the most eloquent, but he got there eventually. “We’re all sleep deprived, and no one else fucked up. But I did, ok, I fucked up, and someone’s dead who probably shouldn’t be, and I’m disappointed in myself.”

 

Ray, for once, wasn’t sure exactly how to respond.

 

“I just fucking fucked up,” Walt whispered, scratching at his face. He looked wild, trying to claw his way out of a skin that didn’t fit anymore. “And I know that it doesn’t matter, _we’re just doing our jobs_ , whatever Brad wants to say, but I don’t even remember pulling the trigger. I became a Marine because I wanted to beat the bad guys, because when I was a kid I wanted to be a superhero.” Ray didn’t roll his eyes; he’d wanted to be a superhero when he was a kid too. “And I know ok, _I know,_ that in the real world it doesn’t work like that. That guy could have been a bad guy, whatever, but maybe he had a family, was just too shocked by the smoke grenade to stop the car. I don’t know. But I never wanted to be someone who didn’t think before shooting a gun. I never wanted to be able to just kill someone, without knowing for sure who they were, that in killing them I was doing the right thing. And I know that makes me a bad Marine,” he said.

 

Ray disagreed, he thought that Walt was the best Marine he’d ever met, he didn’t care that his drill sergeant wouldn’t have agreed.

 

“But at the end of this, once I’m out, I _need_ to be able to look myself in the eye. Right?” he turned to Ray, as if to double check that he was still sane. Ray thought that using him as a measure for sanity was probably a bad idea, but he wasn’t going to give Brad any satisfaction by voicing that thought. He nodded instead.

 

Walt sighed again. “I fucked up, that’s all. I’m sorry. I’ll try to pay better attention, I know Brad’s worrying.” He moved to get up but Ray tugged him back down.

 

“You didn’t fuck up,” he began, but he could see that Walt didn’t believe him. He got up and moved to kneel directly in front of Walt so he had to look at him. “You didn’t fuck up. You’re a good Marine.” Walt swallowed and shrugged. Ray decided to plough on anyway, why the fuck not? “And Walter, if next time you decide to get pissy—and I think we all know that at some point soon you’ll throw another temper tantrum, because you’re a total pussy—you say more to Reporter than you do to me, then I am never, _ever_ sucking your cock again. Is that clear, Corporal?”

 

“You’re a dumb hick, you’re not even my superior off—”

 

“Is. That. Clear?”

 

“Yessir,” said Walt with a mock salute.

 

He still hadn’t laughed or smiled, but he was starting to look less like a wounded puppy, so when he stood up this time, Ray let him walk back up over the berm.

_(forget all of my sins)_

 

When Walt finally smiled again Ray was blinded. The wide, reddened eyes scrunched up, hiding their brilliant blue light, but sending warmth shooting through Ray anyway.

 

He still didn’t know what he did to deserve this.

 

He was still trying not to fuck it up.

 

_(i’ll walk slow)_

After, he couldn’t remember who had said what. He wasn’t sure if he even knew at the time. He remembered the words, but not whose mouth they came tumbling out of.

 

He’d never liked not having control over situations, never liked the hopeless feeling that came with it. He wasn’t sure why he walked into that situation in the first place, why he had barrelled through a pack of Marines and tackled the Corps’ own Bruce Lee.

 

Ripped Fuel had made him stupid, but it also got him out alive, so there was that.

 

He heard footsteps behind him. Not someone trying to sneak up on him, someone warning him that they were coming. Someone who would respect it if he stood up and walked away again.

 

But Walt was the only who would even give him the option, so he stayed right where he was.

 

They didn’t speak for a while, Walt just dropped next to him. Reached out and rubbed his hand down Ray’s back. They were hidden where they were.

 

“We can stay here for a while, but Brad will come looking eventually.”

 

Ray didn’t respond. He didn’t have anything to say.

 

“I’m just going to talk, because being silent with you makes me uncomfortable. I just feel like you should know that even if this conversation should probably wait til we are back home, that even though you’re leaving in November, I don’t want you to go back to Missouri. Because eventually I’ll have to come back here, or go to Afghanistan, and before then I’d like to spend as long with you as I can.” He paused, and Ray tipped his head to rest on Walt’s shoulder. “And also you have snot all over your face.”

 

Ray smiled, he wasn’t going to miss any opportunity for giving DADT a giant fuck you while in theatre. “Want to clean it off for me?”

 

Walt’s face scrunched up. “Not touching you until we’re back in America and we have both showered. I know I’m dating a disgusting hick, but I still have some standards.”

 

“Fine then. But don’t just expect me to put out without a nice dinner first if you’re making me wait. Anyway, last time we had alone time you were the one who got to have the emotional outpour, and this time it should have been me and you hijacked it again.”

 

“You speak to fill gaps, to make other people happy, to keep the peace. You never talk because you need to get something off your chest. I figured you wouldn’t start right now.”

 

Ray reached out and took Walt’s hand in his.

 

“I don’t talk to make ‘people’ happy, Walt, I only talk to make you or Brad happy.”

 

Walt laughed. “That is just not true.”

 

Ray looked appalled at the suggestion that he would lie. “Whatever, homes. Anyway I’m reserving this moment for my own Heartfelt Feelings, so shut up for a minute.”

 

“You’re telling me to shut up? Seriously,” Ray shot him a look. “Yeah, ok, sorry, I’m shutting up.”

 

Ray stayed silent for a couple of more minutes.

 

“I don’t know why I thought tackling Rudy would be a good idea, I don’t even remember what happened before. I’m sick of this country, and I don’t want to think about how much we have fucked it up. But I know that the shit I want to forget, like the driver, or the little girl, or the sick babies, or the shepherd children—I’ll never forget that. I’ll forget the insignificant shit that happened directly to me, like thinking I could take on Fruity Rudy, but I won’t ever forget that I was the one driving when you nearly got strangled by power cords.

 

“And part of me thinks, well yeah Josh Ray you should remember that shit, because you made a fucking mess in this country and you should probably go personally apologise to the families of the civilians your platoon killed. And then the other part just wants to feel as numb about all the fucked up shit as I do about getting beaten up by Rudy.” Ray sighed. “I just want to go home and forget about everything except for you.

 

“But then that makes me think, that if you hadn’t been here with me, how fucking insane I would have gone. Brad wouldn’t have been able to help. And then I think about how fucked up your next tour will be, not just for you, but for me too. Because I’m not going to be able to think about my reality back home for months, because most of my head will be here. _And then,_ I think how fucked up I am because I’ve already stopped thinking about the poor Iraqis whose shit we have fucked up. It’s just an endless loop in my brain, of how fucked up everything in my life is, except for you.”

 

He stopped and took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to share his fears about losing Walt—didn’t really want that shit in his head, let alone in Walt’s—so he waited for Walt to speak.  
  
“You’re fucked up because you can’t eat anything without getting a mess on the back of your legs, because you actually think Avril Lavigne songs are quality music, because you’re a Marine and we’re all fucked up. You’re not fucked up for the reasons you think you are.”

 

Ray just burrowed closer into Walt, he wasn’t going to even try to correct him.

_(take my hand)_

“Ray, Ray, hey, it’s alright, you’re fine, we’re fine.”

 

Ray’s eyes snapped open onto Walt’s face. Ray had somehow twisted himself in the sheets and was half hanging off the bed. His skin was clammy and Walt’s grip on his shoulders was painfully tight. His chest was heaving.

 

“Shh, you were just having a nightmare, it’s alright.”

 

Ray felt disoriented. He couldn’t remember what had happened in his dream, but despite his reassuring voice, Walt looked genuinely concerned.

 

“I’m fine,” Ray said—tried to say, but his breath was coming to shallowly for much to come out. “Let’s go back to sleep.”

 

Walt frowned. “Were you dreaming about Iraq, or the horror movie we watched yesterday?” He asked.

 

Ray snorted. “Homes, the words ‘horror movie’ do not apply to the special education Disney Channel excuse for scary,” he blurted out. _Fuck._

 

“So Iraq then? Wanna talk about it?”

 

“Um, nah, I don’t even remember what it was about.” Walt looked sceptical, but Ray reassured him. “No, seriously I’m not even sure what it was, and I’d really rather snuggle than talk.”

 

“Fine,” Walt said, untangling the sheets and rearranging Ray’s body for him, before spooning up behind him. “We will be talking about it though,” he said in a decided tone that Ray did not like the sound of.

 

Walt drifted back to sleep quickly, but Ray stayed awake. He’d been waking up sweating a couple of times now, but that was the first time it had woken Walt up, or at least the first time he had said anything. Ray never remembered what they were about clearly. But he knew from the vague memories of colour and noise that it was Iraq.

 

He wasn’t upset that he was having bad dreams (Walt had had a couple, and he was sure even Brad had at least once after a tour), but he was embarrassed that Walt had to see him like that. Walt was older than Ray, but it had been his first tour and Ray felt like he should have been the one protecting Walt, being strong for him. Walt was the only thing in his life that made complete sense to him, that he was a hundred per cent sure of.

 

He knew Walt didn’t care if he had bad dreams, only wanted him to feel better, safer, happier. But there was a voice in his head that said that one day Walt was going to want something else, something where he was the one in the relationship who got to be the fucked up one and then the one who was looked after.

 

Ray leaned on Walt because Walt was the light, the happiness that he didn’t deserve but got anyway. But one day, maybe he’d push too hard, he’d put too much weight on Walt, and everything would crumble around them.

 

He was trying.

_(help me on my way)_

 

He tries for a long time, and eventually trying comes just as easily as breathing.

 

Walt gets home from his second tour and promises to never go again.

 

Walt has nightmares and Ray wakes him up and comforts him.

 

Walt can still look himself in the eye and Ray can’t stop looking at him.

 

Rays stops worrying he’s not good enough, that he’s not strong enough, that he’s just _not enough._

 

If they both survived the Corps with most of their sanity _and_ each other, then Ray is still not going to question his luck.

 

He’ll keep trying, because it can only get easier.

 

And knowing Walt, touching Walt, _loving Walt_ has never been hard.


End file.
